


Promise Me

by HannahLydia



Series: Constants and Variables - Vignettes [1]
Category: BioShock Infinite
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Rewrite, F/M, Feelings Realization, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Incest, Mid-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-11 04:02:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15964271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannahLydia/pseuds/HannahLydia
Summary: As long as there was breath in his body, he wouldn’t stop fighting for her. It had gone beyond the realms of what he’d considered ‘the job’ - as far as he was concerned the deal was already off. The only thing worth risking life and limb for wasn’t to clear some monetary debt, it was to find redemption, and find it in her eyes.AKA: A rewrite of the 'Promise Me' scene in Emporia, where Elizabeth makes Booker swear he won't let them take her back. I took liberties.





	Promise Me

“Elizabeth, y–”   
“ _Promise_ me,” 

She sounded so– broken. Elizabeth’s chest was heaving even within the corset, fingers splayed against the wall, her face deliberately turned away from his prying eyes. Booker had never seen her quite like this before, not in the short time they’d been travelling together. Yes, she’d been inconsolable when she had learned he’d intended to take her to New York, but she’d nevertheless had enough wits to conceal her intentions and use her apparent distress as a distraction. This… This was different.  
Booker’s hands fisted at his sides, knowing without seeing that she wasn’t staring at the control panel of the elevator but _through_ it - imagining all that would happen to her should Songbird manage to retrieve her. All that _wouldn’t_ happen on his watch. 

The words fell from his tongue before he even had time to think, adamant that she shouldn’t have to waste one moment suffering on that _thing’s_ account.   
“I _will_ stop him,” He said with conviction, staring so hard at the back of her head as if willing the thought into her mind, hoping to reassure her. God, he sure as hell didn’t know how he planned to put an end to that mechanical monstrosity but if it was their only chance of getting to Paris then—   
_Huh_. ‘Paris’. … Just when exactly had that become his priority?

It was at that moment that Elizabeth’s hand dejectedly slid down the wall, finally turning to look at him. Her tortured blue eyes were wise beyond their years and experiences, staring him down as if she were  _accusing_ him. He fought the urge to shrink back from the force of her gaze. It was almost as if she could see the failure he dared not.  
“No.” She dismissed, her eyebrows slanting upwards and furrowing with pain. Her voice was thick with repressed emotion, fighting back tears that threatened to spill. “That is an oath you _cannot_ keep,” Then, dropping her gaze to his side, Elizabeth reached for the balled-up hand ghosting Booker’s trouser-leg. His heart lurched at the feeling of her slight fingers wrapping around his. Unclenching his fist reflexively, he stared at her in obvious dismay, hurt that she felt he couldn’t protect her. Did she not trust him? Did she not have enough faith that he could take care of her? 

Booker allowed her to tug his hand upwards and raise it to the level of her face, pulse drumming in his ears. Elizabeth’s lips were moving, yes, but he could barely make out the words.   
“– But  _promise_ me-” __  
-Anything.  
“-that if it comes to it…”   
His gaze was fixed on her eyes… those breathtaking eyes full of suffering, believing they were witnessing their last. Full of adoration and regret, as if she had glimpsed a future they couldn’t have. She was guiding his hand as if to her cheek, seemingly encouraging his affection. Only a day ago he would have been looking at her questioningly, silently demanding an explanation, but now– now he was looking at her as if witnessing some divine judgement.  
Before he knew what he was doing he was reaching out for her cheek, fingers extended, waiting for her to complete her guiding gesture so that he knew her consent had been granted. He wanted her heart-shaped face in his calloused hands, wanted to feel her soft, pale skin underneath his thumbs. He needed to know that his hands could be used for more than just death and destruction.   
As if she had registered that very need, Elizabeth hesitated, her movements stilling. Drinking in the sight of his usually stoic face newly softened with concern, her pupils darted to and fro and back again. She realised with a jolt that the line of his lips looked so _appealing_ when they weren’t tugged down into a tight frown. 

Uncertainty coiled in her stomach. She had been about to thrust his hand towards her throat and beg him to end her misery should they have no other way out, and yet… something was stopping her. She’d picked up on the way he was reaching out to her - an action so subtle, something so easily missed - yet soothing to say the least. Goaded on by his willingness, she ignored the instinct to force his hand to her neck, a weight lifting from her shoulders as his large, encompassing palm pressed against her cheek. She held him there, letting him know that his touch was welcome, a ragged sigh escaping from her lips.

Booker, too, released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, relaxing his tense muscles, savouring the moment. He watched as the dark crescent of Elizabeth’s lashes lowered over her eyes until they had drifted closed entirely, her nose gently turning towards his palm.  
“… don’t…” she began, her breath hitching. “… _don’t let him take me back_ ,” This time she spoke in a way that was barely above a whisper, quiet enough that he wasn’t sure she’d intended for him to hear. Intended or not, Booker  _had_ heard, and the plea inspired some newfound territorial thoughts within him. He imagined, in that fleeting moment, that she was his and his alone - not an object, but a free woman -  _his_ woman - to protect.    
He was snapped from this thoughts when her lips brushed against his life-line, pressing into his palm in a tender, heartfelt kiss that thawed the ice that had long-since formed around his weathered heart. The sight of it left him temporarily without air, heat rising up the column of his neck. 

 _I’d die for her_ , he realised suddenly. The notion was no wishful sentiment, nor was it exaggerated or idealised; it was a fact he knew to be true. Grim as it was, it wasn’t distressing, just as it wasn’t comforting. He wasn’t deluded enough to believe it made him a hero; he was no more than a man that owed her too much. Besides… he cared for her more than he liked to admit. The feeling of her lips pressed against his palm was as stark reminder of that, driving him half-mad with his need to _save_ her in anyway that he possibly could. 

“He won’t have you,” Booker heard himself saying, just as his second, bandaged hand raised to cup her opposing cheek. His fingers delved into Elizabeth’s short hair, brows lowering over his eyes with the certainty of his statement.  
As long as there was breath in his body, he wouldn’t stop fighting for her. It had gone beyond the realms of what he’d considered ‘the job’ - as far as he was concerned the deal was already off. The only thing worth risking life and limb for wasn’t to clear some monetary debt, it was to find redemption, and find it in her eyes. Absolve his sins by looking into her too-beautiful face and knowing that he had done right by someone for once in his life.   
Screw New York. Screw everything that wasn’t Paris.

The line of Booker’s stubbled jaw was hard with the weight of his word, his pale green eyes boring into hers. “ _I promise_ ,” He swore, drinking in the sight of her, silently thanking the fools that had thought they were sending him to some mark worth giving up. 


End file.
